(Maybe) Providence
The video ended and Cassie turned the lights in the living room back on. "Well, what did you all think?"
The housemates sat in stunned silence. Cassie had made porn for her Sexuality in Film class. Which wasn't entirely surprising, seeing as the paint was used as currency for proffering sexual favors in the painting studio. It just … it wasn't good porn. So the five roommates she'd gathered to critique her rough cut looked at each other and tried to come up with helpful feedback.
"The lighting was really good!"
"Yeah, I thought the color balance was good, I didn't get a headache when you switched back and forth between the people … and the elephant … gang … rape?"
"And set was awesome, where did you get the curtains?
They looked at Stu for his contribution.
"It sort of sucked." There was a hilarious audible gasp. For someone who had thrown a canvas in the bay when he got a bad critique, he was amazingly mean when offering it to others. He lit a cigarette off the one he was just finishing. "It was like you just picked random sexual tropes and clichés, and filmed them. Like you were trying to make a parody by pulling in the lamest stunts, but without letting the audience know that you know you're making a parody. And the style was weird, like you weren't sure you wanted to film sex. You went from clear focus when they were talking in the office, and then you smeared the lens with Vaseline and put them behind a potted plant for the actual sex. How did the plant follow them like that? And no matter what, cut out the part with the elephants. No one wants to see that. Ever."
Beth smacked his arm.
"But the color balance was REALLY good!" He added. "And the sound editing was awesome." He picked up the bottle of vodka they were passing around, but Cassie grabbed it from his hands and took a swill.
"Well," she said, "I appreciate everyone's thoughtful feedback." She unplugged her computer from the TV, and huffed as she headed up the stairs.
"It was really bad," Gil said when they heard her door slam shut. They all nodded.
"Still, Stu, did you have to point out how bad?" Beth said, taking a long drag off his cigarette.
"What was I supposed to say? She's going to show that in class! How is it possible to make porn that bad, anyway? She and Charlie could just set up a camera and the odds are it would be less bad."
"They could if they were having sex," Gil chimed in, "But they're not. Charlie was asking me for ideas for diverting her attention. Which is not something I've ever had to worry about before, so I didn't have ideas for him."
*
It was well after 1 AM when there was a knock on Stuart's bedroom door. He was sprawled on the floor, surrounded by pastels.
"Come on in," he said, loud enough for the person on the other side to hear, but hopefully not loud enough to wake up anyone who might be asleep.
Cassie poked her head around the door, "I saw your light was still on."
She carefully stepped around the stacks of sketchbooks and boxes of supplies that were taking over the floor to make her way to his bed.
"You're not mad about what I said downstairs earlier, right?" Stu asked, rolling to his side.
"No, you were right. The style does change rather suddenly. I do appreciate the honest feedback. I'm not really sure what I'm going to turn in on Tuesday, but I appreciate the feedback."
"Can I just ask though, why elephants?"
She laughed. "I don't know. I was at the zoo with Charlie, and I had my camera, and it was sort of awkward you know, because there were the elephants fucking and there were families around trying to explain the elephants were playing and it was so awkward and funny."
"Awkward and funny. The way sex should be!" Stu laughed and rolled back to his drawing.
"I suppose," Cassie folded herself into a lotus position on his bed. "Still, what was that supposed to mean that my characters were pulling lame stunts?"
"Just the way they were talking, no one talks like that during sex. I mean, I get that you and Charlie aren't screwing, but even if you're only drawing on terrible high school sex, the wording seemed weird. I've had sex with a lot of girls, and not one of them has ever said the word 'g-spot' to me when we're actually having sex. And I'm not completely positive, but I'm fairly sure that no one can reach it with their hands on the girl's shoulders."
Cassie picked at the corner of Stu's bedspread. "Sure."
"I just don't see how you could have had sex and still made porn that bad, that's all."
"It's not porn! That's why I used the plant! It's not supposed to be porn, it's supposed to be a comment on sex as social currency!" Cassie unfolded herself and stood up to leave.
"Wait," Stu noticed the way she bristled at his comment, and he sat up on his knees and grabbed her hand. "You're not just not having sex with Charlie, you've never had sex at all, have you?"
"That is none of your business!"
He guided her back to the bed and sat across from her. "I just didn't think it was possible to make it this long in art school and not have sex. I mean, I gave a guy a reach around last week to distract him so I could take his paint."
"That's gross, Stu. And possibly illegal."
He shrugged. "He gave me a blowjob to get the paint in the first place. That blue paint has been moving around the studio."
"Moving around like chlamydia, maybe. Have you considered you're overcompensating for the whole one testicle thing?"
He glared at her. "You sound like my parents. I'm not having sex to prove anything about myself, I'm having sex because it's fun and feels good. Besides, I think the only thing I buy more than pencils are condoms."
"That's seriously disgusting Stu."
"Whatever, I just think you can't draw or paint or create something you're not familiar with. What's the deal? Not even like, barely get the tip in, post-prom hotel room sex where everyone leaves disappointed and you're not even sure you lost your virginity?"
Cassie rolled her eyes, "Seriously? Way to sell it, Stu. I'm going to bed."
"I didn't say that's what it was like for me, but I gather a non-trivial number of people have really crappy sex the first few times. I've just always figured that most people don't find out they have cancer the first time a girl goes down on them, it's a very different kind of crappy sex. Actually, the sex was pretty awesome..."
"You know what, fuck off Stu." She was up and closed the door behind her.
*
On Tuesday afternoon, Stu had the windows in his room open and his fan running as he sprayed fixer and matting glue all over to get things prepped for his critique the next day. Around 4 Cassie let herself into his room, without knocking.
"You were right. It was horrible." She slurred her words together, clearly drinking from the bottle in her left hand.
"What was horrible?"
"The porn. You were right, someone called it Mad Libs meets Ron Jeremy." She flopped out on his bed and continued, "I called Charlie and he said I was putting too much pressure on him when he has work to do, too. I think he broke up with me."
"You think?" Stu gave up on his drawings and pulled his desk chair next to the bed, carefully pulling the bottle away from her, before she spilled.
"He says I'm too horny for him! He says he doesn't think I'm respecting his boundaries. Why doesn't he want to have sex with me, Stu? Why doesn't anyone want to have sex with me? I'm a 21 year old virgin! Isn't that like the set up for Penthouse letters."
Stu shook his head, "I don't know."
"Would you have sex with me?"
"I'm sure lots of people would love to have sex with you."
"No seriously!" She pulled herself up to face him. "Fuck me! Everyone has random casual sex but me, and maybe I just need to have sex and then I can make good porn."
"Okay, you've had waaaaay too much to drink, let's get you some aspirin and get you to bed before you start being really crazy."
With that, she was suddenly straddling his hips, her skirt pulled back up over her thighs, sucking on his neck, grasping at his hair.
"Yeah, no, way too much to drink Cassie, we can't do this." He felt himself stirring at the contact through his jeans. Good God it sucked to have to be responsible. Stupid self-imposed moral code to not have sex with girls who were drunker than him.
"Dude, I've like two drinks. I'm SAD because my boyfriend broke up with me, because I wanted to have sex because maybe hand holding and negotiated kissing isn't enough for me. I'm horny because I never have sex and I live in a house with thin walls and a bunch of artists having hot monkey sex all the time!"
Stu pulled back again. She wasn't wrong, there was a lot of sex going on, and the walls were thin. "You don't want drunken meaningless sex. You've held out this long for a reason."
Cassie looked stunned and a little hurt, "No I haven't! I really like Charlie and he just doesn't want sex, and maybe this can be a thing you and I do, and then Charlie and I can go back to our status quo of hand holding and deep, meaningful conversation."
Stu rolled his eyes, "You are going to regret this conversation later."
"Come on Stu, you're always with someone, you must be at least passible, right? I don't want a relationship, I just want a big, hard … cock." She tried to sound sultry, but the last word was forced. She grabbed his hand and pushed her underwear to the side. Crap it was getting harder to be the level headed one.
"Please, Stu," she went for sultry looks instead of dirty talk.
"Why don't you go downtown and buy a vibrator?"
"Dude! Have you seen how much those cost?" (He had, and more than once traded oral with girls from class when batteries seemed less important than new paintbrushes.) "Come on! Please!"
"Fine, let me go get a condom," he relented, the straining in his pants getting the best of him.
*
"Wait!"
Stu groaned and lifted his head to look at Scott. Scott had taken over Stu's room while he'd done a semester in Japan. Stu had then moved his things into Gil's room, who had left to do his spring semester in Paris. Scott had invited Stu to come along to one of the bars more commonly frequented by Brown poli-sci majors than RISD art students for what was known as the First Friday Fest. The bar was mostly empty, classes didn't start until Tuesday, but it was probably easier to get to know his new housemate without having to shout over crowds. He was an affable prelaw student, from Atlanta, with aspirations for Georgetown.
They'd stumbled back to the house, and then up the stairs to Stu's bed, but as soon as Stu's hand's started to drift south, Scott pulled back.
"I just don't do hook-ups," Scott panted, sitting up and starting to tuck his shirt in, "there's a lot of risks, you know, and I mean, I like sex -- a LOT -- and you seem cool, and maybe there's something here with us, but I think we won't get to find out if we screw around tonight. I'd just rather take risks with someone when I know there's something between us, you know?"
Stu swallowed hard. The last time someone said anything about "something between us" was high school. Stu was far too drunk to consider whether or not he'd want a relationship with Scott.
"Yeah, that's understandable." Stu finally gathered his words, "Whatever you're comfortable with."
Scott smiled, and pressed a lingering kiss to Stu's lips, "Maybe we can have a nondrunken date once classes kick into gear, and we know what our schedules are like?"
Stu smiled and nodded as Scott let himself out of the room and headed back to his own bedroom, before silently screaming with frustration into his pillow.
*
The next morning Stu was fixing coffee and cursing the bar, his hangover, and his failed hook-up when Cassie wandered into the kitchen for the first time since he'd returned from Japan.
"Hey Stu, how was your semester?"
"Good, learned a lot about traditional print making. And manga. I bought so much manga. How was your semester?" He really wished she didn't want to be chatty. He just wanted coffee and some fried eggs.
"Okay. I guess. I'm pregnant."
Stu turned and looked at her, unsure of what to say. She had a giant poster on her wall from the time she took the train to DC to go on a march for reproductive rights, surely she wouldn't be pregnant if she didn't want to be. "Oh. Wow. Um. Charlie? Um. That's cool?"
"I didn't tell Charlie. I didn't tell anyone. I've just gone for boho tops this semester and everyone thinks I'm eating a lot of junk food."
"Why didn't you tell Charlie? I mean, you guys have been dating for years. He must have finally put out for you."
"We broke up again, when I found out I was pregnant this summer."
Stu could see where this was going. No. No no no no no no no no. No. Maybe if he just stood there he'd wake up from the dream. Making sure he never had this exact conversation was why he got the bulk box of condoms.
"Stu, say something," Cassie finally prompted after a few seconds? Minutes? Hours? Of stunned silence.
"I don't know why you're telling me. It can't be MINE. I used a condom!" She rolled her eyes.
"Uh, yeah. She is. Condoms aren't perfect."
"No, condoms aren't perfect when you use them wrong. I'm very familiar with using them right."
"No, Stu, I don't think that's how it really works," she moved to lean against the counter and face him.
"No, this isn't because of me," he pointed at her torso.
"Yes."
"No."
"Hey guys," Scott stumbled into the kitchen. "Is there any coffee? Does anyone want to go get some hashbrowns?"
*
Sunday afternoon she was sitting on his bed, hoping for a different outcome.
"So, what are you going to do? With it?"
"Stop saying 'it.' The ultrasound showed she's a girl."
"Okay, what's your plan for her? If you haven't told anyone, don't you think they'll be surprised when you come home from the hospital with a baby one day?"
She shrugged. "I dunno."
Finally he decided to ask straight out. "You go to marches about abortion rights. Why didn't you have an abortion when you found out?"
She shrugged again. "Dunno. I was in shock. I wanted to tell you, but I didn't have your phone number in Japan."
"But you have to have some sort of plan? I mean - do you want a baby? Should we go buy a crib? What do you want me to do? We're not dating, we’re not going to get married and be some Stepford family where I slick back my hair and you make a pot roast for dinner every night. I'm thinking about grad school! Or maybe I'll backpack around Europe and sell my drawings on the street!"
"I dunno. I guess not. I was reading that in Texas there was this woman who left her baby at the hospital. She just gave a fake name when she checked in, and then she left. There's talk about making it legal to leave a baby at the hospital, if you don't want it."
"Okay, but we're in Rhode Island. Are you planning to go to Texas to have the baby? Because here, I think that's called abandonment, and I'm pretty sure it's illegal."
"Yeah. But maybe a nice family would adopt her. Like, really rich people or something!"
He stared in disbelief. "Cassie, I think rich people, like, hire people to have babies for them. Didn't you see the news about the people who kept their foster kids in cages-" Oh fuck, he thought to himself, as he saw the tears start to well up in her eyes, "-I just mean, leaving it to the state …"
Too late, the tears were streaming down her cheeks.
"Why would you say that?" she blubbered, swatting him on the arm. He moved to try and hug her, the tears coming faster. She tried to wipe her face on his flannel, and managed to smear snot across his shoulder. He winced, this was not how hookups were supposed to end.
"Maybe we can find some rich people who haven't hired anyone yet?" he said, hoping to quell the tears. This was not what he was good at. "Maybe ask your doctor if they have ideas? Like maybe there's a network, and they hook up people?"
Cassie nodded, lip quivering as she tried to straighten herself up. "That's a good idea. Maybe you can come with me?"
*
A week later and a meeting with a social worker at the county free clinic and they had the numbers for a handful of adoption agencies and family formation lawyers. The social worker also handed her a page with numbers for therapists who specialized in depression in pregnant women. Cassie assured her that everything was fine. Then the social worker ushered Stu back out into the waiting room, while she and Cassie discussed "legal matters that don't pertain to you," she'd said, closing the door in his face.
"They wanted to make sure you weren't coercing me to give up the baby," she said flatly when they got in her car.
"Oh. Do you feel that way? I mean, if you WANT to keep her--"
"No. I don't. They were just worried because I hadn't talked about it before. Maybe I should call a therapist."
"It couldn't hurt, I don't think." Stuart sighed with relief. He knew it was purely selfish, that he didn't want to have to pay child support, that he didn't want to tell his parents about the kid. But he was 20. He wanted to think about animation class and the next time he was getting laid and whether or not he could ask his parents for grocery money so he could spend his work study check on cigarettes and paint brushes.
*
They made a half a dozen calls to check the political orientations - Cassie didn't want her baby (the only time Stu ever heard her say that) going to people who were going to use her to vilify people who did have abortions.
Another week and they met a string of prospective adoptive parents: Doctors, lawyers, bankers, and one Presbyterian minister (who talked a lot about how she was pro-choice, and she and her husband seemed to have waited too long), and a couple of professors. Everyone was almost cloyingly sweet, thanking them for considering helping complete their family.
"What do you think?" Stu asked that night, back in his room, him half-heartedly working on an animation project, her staring at the ceiling.
"I dunno. They all seemed OLD, didn't they? Like, are they going to be able to keep up with a baby? I mean, like that one couple, they were 41. They'll be almost 60 when the kid goes to college."
"Cassie, that's not even retired. And they what, ran a marathon last year? I couldn't run a marathon, so I'm sure they're perfectly capable of keeping up with a kid."
"I suppose." She flipped through the stack again, adjusting the paperclips.
*
Cassie and her doctor scheduled her induction for the weekend of President's Day, it was close enough to her due date, and she'd miss the fewest classes possible. They'd picked the youngest couple they'd met, he was 38, worked at the White House, she was 39 and worked at some big law firm in DC. When she said the name Stu nodded like he'd heard of it before.
He sat silently across from them in the maternity waiting room, while Cassie checked in and got settled in her room. He questioned whether he really had to be there at all, he really never wanted anything to do with Cassie's vagina ever again. He'd made the mistake of saying that out loud to her, and was met with a half-hearted punch to the shoulder as she started crying and babbling about how she was doing all the work and carrying her overnight bag for her wasn't such an imposition.
So he dutifully drove her to the hospital and carried her bag to the maternity wing, and settled in to wait until it was time for him to sign some papers. He watched the couple hold hands, and whisper to each other. The wife nervously toyed with her wedding ring. The husband tinkered with his watch endlessly. When they pulled out their little point and shoot camera and took a picture of each other in front of the labor and delivery sign, Stu finally jumped in, and offered to take the picture for them, so that they could both be in it. He pulled out his camera, a behemoth medium format he'd found at a thrift store in Japan. He wondered if it would be odd to do a couple of candid shots. Would they want candids for the baby book? Eventually Cassie asked that the wife join her (she looked thrilled to be called). Stu and the husband kept averting eye contact.
Slightly after 3 AM, and nearly 18 hours after they'd shown up, the wife came out gleefully clapping. She babbled on about her length and weight and they cried as they embraced. Stu carefully pointed the camera from its place on the chair. If he were them, he'd want a photo of the moment.
Sometime later (he'd lost track of time, fitfully sleeping on a chair in the waiting room) the family services lawyer from the adoption agency showed up. Stu scanned the paperwork; he'd read it before but wanted to at least look like he was being thoughtful before he signed away his rights and responsibilities for the baby.
*
He stopped at the nursery on his way out of the hospital. He saw the husband leaning against the glass with a contented smile, waving at the baby. Surely the guy knew newborns couldn't focus their eyes that far away yet.
"Do you have a name picked out?" Stu finally broke the silence after standing next to the man as the nurses held up the tiny human wrapped in pink, and waved her little hand at them.
"Destiny Willow," he said, "Willow was my wife's mother's name, and we're not religious, but we keep having adoptions fall through for different reasons. We stopped trying for almost a year, but then we got a call … and now we're here. It just seemed to fit."
Stu pursed his lips, wondering if he should say anything. "But Destiny? I don't mean to judge your names, but we've giving her to you because we think you'll do a BETTER job at making sure she doesn't become a stripper. It's day one and you're already not helping her!"
The man looked nonplused.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have judged. She's your baby, you can name her whatever you want." Stu wondered if he could say anything to get his foot out of his mouth. "Um, in case I don't see you again, here's the film from my camera." Stu handed over the medium format film canisters. He'd thought about hitting up the studio and printing the pictures himself, in case the composition was terrible. He'd decided he didn't want to have to pay the fee for unregistered drop-in studio time. Besides, would lawyers really know if the photos were a little under or over exposed, or if the blocking was off?
"Also, here," He handed the older man a small stack of books tied with a ribbon he'd snagged from Beth's mixed media supplies. "I made some little picture books for her. ABCs, some Japanese folk tales -I was in Japan last semester- stuff like that."
"Thank you, Stuart," the older man smiled, the corners of his eyes were wet.
"Oh, I mean, it's no big deal. I'm studying illustration. And everyone knows how to bind a book."
"For everything. I don't think we could ever thank you two enough for picking us."
Stu felt a lump in his throat as the other man pulled him in for a hug. He swallowed hard, and quickly retreated for the doors, the sidewalk, the walls of his room. He pulled covers over his head, hoping he could wake up, and find it was still April, he hadn't fucked Cassie, and he just had a dozen drawings to finish for class.
*
"Do you ever wonder, if you can't trust one condom, how can you ever trust any condom after that?" He asked Beth that night, as they passed a bowl back and forth sitting on the back porch watching the snow fall.
She shrugged. "Deep."
"I'm serious," he said, exhaling, "like, we put so much faith -your whole life- in one wee little bit of latex, and then you don't even know that it didn't work!"
"Is someone you know positive? Or is it the whole thing with Cassie and the baby?" she frowned.
"She told you?"
"No, but it's hard not to notice. She thinks we all think she's just really into boho-grunge. She gets super weird whenever I say anything about it. Ooooh, are you the father? We've had bets going all semester. Gil and I narrowed it down to you, that pervy textiles grad student, or the guy who runs the coffee cart outside of the pottery building. When is she due, did she tell you? I can't figure it out."
Stu stared at her in disbelief, him, the pervy textiles guy, or coffee cart dude? How did they come up with this list? "She had the baby this morning."
"That's where you two have been! How'd it go? What's the plan?"
"Fine, I guess? I gave her some horribly overpriced flowers from the gift shop this morning, and she said she wanted to go to sleep. We found a couple that wanted to adopt a baby. I stayed in the waiting room with the new father. They're lawyers, they have a house."
"Houses are cool," Beth nodded to herself.
"Yeah, but like, what if you just want to get up and go to Paris? I don't think I want to be tied down like that," Stu said.
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The bell on the door chimed, and Stuart looked up from behind the counter, a girl in a Scripps College tee and jeans shuffled in, looking a little out of sorts. Not one of the regulars. Maybe a regular at one of the shops that had better stock and less creepy clientele. When he'd bought the shop there was only one other store in town, now there were two others, and a half a dozen more a reasonable drive away. Girls went to stores where the other customers didn't freak out. Socially savvy guys went with them. It was only May, and too early for a new crop of college freshman. She must be lost.
"Welcome to the Comic Center. Let me know if you need help finding anything."
The kid kept looking up hesitantly, watching the other patrons in the store - Lonely Larry and Captain Sweatpants. When they finally left, the kid nearly immediately came to the register with a Green Lantern poster.
"Hi. Um. Hi." She stammered, handing the poster to Stuart.
"Hi, Just the poster for you today?"
"Yeah. No. Yes. Um. You're Mr Bloom, right? I think you might know my parents? I mean my - um. Trevor and Melinda Jackson."
Stuart froze and his eyes shot from the cash register to the kid standing in front of him.
"Destiny?"
"Um… Chloe. They told me I had you to thank for that. And I was sort of in town, so I thought I'd say thank you in person."
"Right. That's good. I'm Stuart. You knew that. So um. How have you been?"
"Good. Good. I'm starting college at Scripps this fall, and there's an orientation thing starting tomorrow, just for the weekend. Then I'll really move out in August, and um. Well. I called … Ms. Roth a while ago, and she said you owned the store here, and I just thought I'd say hello. And thank you, for making sure I didn't have a stripper name."
"Ms. Roth?" Stuart mulled over who the hell … "Oh! Cassie! Right! Yeah. We didn't want you to be a stripper."
He backtracked in his head, seriously, had he been out of school for almost 18 years? That seemed off, he was sure he'd only been in California for 15. Or was it 16? Why did they not require math in art school!?
"I graduated a year early," she chimed in, probably reading the look on his face. "High school sucked. Everyone acted like I should be so sad to be leaving early, ugh. It's going to be so fun living in California!"
"Wait, you're excited to leave home? Aren't your parents nice? Is everything okay? They seemed nice on paper, are they not actually nice? Was the house a lie?!" Stuart panicked a little.
"Haha!" she laughed, clearly thinking it was a joke. "They're great. DC is just … eh. I'm looking forward to sunshine and flipflops all year."
"So, your parents are cool?"
"Yeah, I guess. For parents."
Stuart nodded.
"I like the books you made for me. I still have them. They're so cute. I tried to look you up once, to see if you did other books, but I couldn't find anything."
"Oh, no. I mean, I majored in illustration in college. But I usually do more like portraits and ... things."
"Oh, that sounds cool. So you like, sell stuff?"
"Yeah, sometimes," Stuart's eyes darted back and forth between the counter and her earrings. It had been … three years … since he'd even submitted his portfolio for a show. Longer since he'd sold anything.
"Oh," She seemed … maybe off put. "I'd love to see it sometime, if I could. If you're having a show or something."
Stuart nodded. "Yeah, nothing right now. The store, you know."
"Right," she nodded and looked around, as if she knew the workings of a small business. "Do you travel a lot now that you own the store? Living in Japan for a while when you were in college must have been so much fun! I went to France for our 8th grade class trip, and I just loved it! Two years for Christmas we went to Egypt, and next month we're going to Peru to see Machu Pichu. I really want to study abroad in college, maybe in Italy. I LOVE Italian food. I mean, I bet it's hard to get away now, but before you bought the store, or during the holidays?"
"Yeah, no, um, well, I almost moved to Florence after college, but then I came to LA instead," he tried to shrug it off, as if he didn't wonder if that was the root of all his problems, years earlier. "But then I moved to San Francisco. Well, Oakland. Oakland-adjacent, anyway, for a while. There's a great art scene there."
"Oh." She bit her lip looking for something to say. Stuart unconsciously mimicked her, and bit his own lip. He vaguely remembered what that was like, jetting off to far away places with a backpack and a map. His passport had long since expired and gotten lost in a move.
"Maybe I'm not the guy you expected to meet today…" Stuart started.
"No! It's not that! I googled you last night, and I read the reviews of the store on Yelp. I don't know what I expected. There just … wasn’t much new? So I thought maybe you'd been super busy doing things the past few years, that … wouldn't … be … on … Google?" She tripped over the last sentence. Were there things Google wouldn't know?
The door chimed in the background, but Stuart was too flustered to look up.
"Why hell-o," Howard immediately fixated on Chloe.
"No, no, no, hell no, do step any closer!" Stuart almost threw himself between them. "She's 17! And you're engaged! And she's 17!"
"Wha? I was just saying hello to the lovely female visitor," Howard started to defend himself. Stuart saw Sheldon and Raj getting into a fight over the newest movie memorabilia. He pulled Excalibur off the wall and handed it to Chloe.
"Here," he said, "if he gets any closer to you, or tries anything. Go for his nuts! It's okay, no one would convict you. You might get a public service award."
She looked concerned as Stuart handed her the sword. He stepped away briefly to break up the scuffle, just long enough to be sure that he wasn't going to have to eat the cost of broken merchandise. He spun back around when he heard the door chime. The sword was propped against the counter, the poster was still next to the computer. He ducked down and spotted her walking over to her parents on the bench. He briefly made eye contact with the older man - grayer, but still the same guy he'd spent a super awkward night in the hospital with - and gave him a brief nod.
He couldn't really blame her for splitting the second she had the chance. He wouldn't have been all that excited to meet himself, either.
Prologue | Chapter 1 | Los Angeles | Chapter 2 | Providence | Chapter 3 | Oakland | Chapter 4 | Alhambra | Chapter 5 | Epilogue